That Old A, B, C
by JamesLuver
Summary: Every factor indicated to John Bates that today was going to be a very bad day.


**A/N:** This is not a new fic-it was written in response to Awesomegreentie and Terriejane's _A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words_ challenge back in February 2017. I have been asked recently to transfer these fics from Tumblr to here for ease of access...so I finally gave in, LOL.

The picture which inspired this was a trio of building blocks.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Downton Abbey_.

* * *

Every factor indicated to John Bates that today was going to be a very bad day.

It had started in the early hours of the morning, with Jack's ear-splitting wails. Both he and Anna had dragged themselves wearily from bed, trying with increasing desperation to get him to quieten, but nothing seemed to work. Not sucking at his mother's breast, not being rocked in his father's arms, not being changed or read to. His first teeth had started to cut through his gums only a few days before, and they were being punished for it now. All he and Anna had been able to do was sit up helplessly with him, trying to see out the worst of it.

Peace had, at last, fallen near dawn, when Jack had clearly screamed with such ferocity that he had run out of energy and had slipped under into an exhausted, uneasy slumber. That was when Anna's own symptoms had started. He'd caught her shivering in the night, but she'd waved away his concern, adamant that she would not leave their son's side when he was in so much discomfort. It had been to her detriment. Her cotton nightgown and threadbare shawl had done nothing to combat the surprisingly cold June night, and as Jack had succumbed to sleep, so Anna had succumbed to whatever ailment that had crept up on her. Her temperature was up, and her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep. She'd been to the bathroom twice to throw up in quick succession. Now she was pushing weakly at the bed sheets.

"You're not getting up," he said sternly as she made to follow him out of bed. She fixed a glare on him, its impact lessened by the uncharacteristic dullness of her blue eyes.

"I am perfectly capable, thank you, Mr. Bates," she said.

"You are not," he shot back. "I know you don't like to concede defeat, but I've not seen you looking like this in a long time." Not since the trauma she had gone through, when she'd been gaunt and lifeless, a silent ghost amongst them.

"There's Jack to look after. He's a baby, he can't do it himself."

"No, he can't. _I _can look after him, though."

She looked at him with watery eyes. "You?"

John didn't know whether he should be offended or amused that she didn't seem to have much faith in him. "I'm his daddy. He should know that I'll be there for him no matter what he might need."

"But how will you be able to manage everything? It's difficult enough trying to do the work round the hotel without a little baby needing your attention every minute of the day…"

He could see she was fretting, so he said firmly, "I can manage."

"But there are the nappy changes, to mention nothing of the feeding. You know he has a healthy appetite."

"Anna, you know very well that I have no problems changing a nappy. Well, not anymore. And you said yourself, now he's teething you're going to wean him off. We've got condensed milk in the cupboards. I can make him a bottle quite easily. I'm not running the hotel completely alone, you know. Mrs. Aldred dotes on him, and Josie is a bright young girl. I can trust her to take charge just for the length of time it takes to see to our son."

He could see that Anna wanted to argue further, but she had no ammunition left. Her scowl of defeat was all the more pleasing for its rarity. Cheered despite his own bone-tiredness, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering longer than he needed to just to savour the feel of her beneath him. He drifted down to catch her mouth, too, but she jerked her head away. He was momentarily afraid that she was cross with him.

"I don't want you to catch what I have," she said. "We can't have you ill as well. Oh, God, what about Jack? What if I've passed something on to him? He's just a baby."

"The doctor says that babies are surprisingly resilient," John reassured her. "And look how well he nurses. He's a stout chap. It'll take a lot to take him down, I think. It's just the tooth pain that's been keeping him up all night, nothing more. And speaking of the doctor, I'll send Josie out for him as soon as it's acceptable. He can come and make sure that there's nothing he can give you to make you feel better quicker. I don't like the idea of leaving you on your own all morning, but…"

"You don't have a choice," Anna said firmly. "I wouldn't expect you to put me before the business."

"There's no contest," John said immediately. "I could lose all of that quite happily tomorrow, as long as I knew I'd still have you and Jack. You're all I need."

"Which is very sweet, but it's not keeping a roof over our heads. Go, I'll be all right. It's just a cold. I'm not at death's door."

They'd all thought that Miss Swire wasn't at death's door when the Spanish Flu had hit, but that had turned out to be a catastrophic miscalculation.

"I'll keep sending someone over to pop their head in on you, at least until the doctor arrives," he promised.

"Nothing is going to get done if you carry on like that," said Anna, the smile evident in her voice. "I'll be fine, I promise. Just…don't be home too late tonight. You'll be absolutely exhausted. I don't want you burning yourself out."

He mock-saluted at her. "Yes, ma'am. Now, I'd better go and get ready. I'll leave Jack here while he's sleeping. Just try and sleep, my darling."

She nodded, reluctantly snuggling back down amongst the sheets. He gathered his things together and moved out of the room, not quite ready to see the start of this day himself, but without any other choice.

* * *

After readying himself in the bathroom, somehow managing to scrape together something edible in the kitchen, and making a cup of tea to take to the bedroom for Anna in case she wasn't quite asleep, John made his way back upstairs, balancing his tray carefully. He wasn't sure if Anna would be hungry even if she was awake, so he had just prepared a couple of slices of hot buttered toast for her, something plain that would hopefully sit all right with her stomach. And if she was asleep, well, a couple of slices of toast were no great loss. In these early few months, they were trying to be as careful as possible to preserve the money they had. The majority of their savings had been eaten up by this move to Scarborough, and Anna was prudently making savings wherever she could in order to ensure that they made it through the slower winter months.

When he pushed open the bedroom door a crack to gauge whether Anna was indeed awake, she stirred and rolled over. Her eyes were hazy, as if she had been dozing, but she managed a smile for him. John pushed the door open further, padding into the room and setting the tray down on the bedside cabinet.

"I've brought you something," he said softly. "If you don't feel like you can stomach it, that's all right. Just leave it there and I'll move it when I come home. Don't even think about doing it yourself, do you hear me?"

"It's just a tray, John," she said. "I'm quite capable of moving it."

"And I'd feel much better if you just stayed in bed, at least until the doctor comes to see you. You ought to relish the chance of a lie-in." He tucked an errant strand of her hair behind her ear, smiling. "Besides, haven't you always wanted the chance to wake up natural? Well, now's your opportunity. No alarm, no responsibilities. Make the most of it, my darling. Jack and I will be just fine. We'll muddle along together quite well. It'll be nice to have some quality father-son time."

"Have you got everything he needs, though?"

"I have. I've packed the baby bag. It's sitting by the front door."

"Are you sure you've got everything? Changing things? Milk? His favourite blanket? Mr. Tatty Teddy?"

"Stop fussing. Yes, I've got everything he needs. He'll be the most doted on baby in the whole of Scarborough today. Now, just try and relax."

She gave him a small smile. "I'll try. I can't promise I'll be any good. Idle hands and all that. I've never been much good on the sickbed."

"You're very beautiful on it, though." He bent in to press another kiss to her mouth before she could protest, then straightened. "Right, little man, it's just you and me today."

Jack didn't even stir, and John chuckled.

"See? I might even have an easy ride of it. All that wailing all night long is bound to have worn him out. We'll do just fine."

He bent down and picked their son up gently, cradling him in his arms. He really was a big chap now, heavy and stout, round-faced and thick-limbed. There was no doubt in John's mind that he was following the trend of Bates men being big and burly. It filled him with pride, made his heart swell and spill over with love for this child he had helped to make with love.

Anna was peering at them with warmth in her eyes. He could not stop his smile at the sight.

"We're out to make the money that will keep our family afloat," he said. "Goodbye, my darling."

"Bye," Anna echoed, and he closed the door behind him as he made his way onto the landing. Despite the small space, they kept the pram in the hall so they weren't constantly fighting with it every time they wanted to get it out, and John was grateful for that now as he tucked Jack up nice and snug. Stowing the bag of supplies over the bar, John navigated the front door, jostled the pram outside, and made his way to work.

A minor bump in the road, he hoped, with Jack's disturbed night and Anna' sudden illness. He was usually pessimistic, but surely things were bound to improve? What could possibly go wrong?

The answer was, unfortunately, several things, which John only discovered as the day went on.

* * *

Mr. Locke, the man who kept a watch over the hotel at night, eyed him dubiously as he struggled through the door with the pram.

"What's that?" he asked, as if he'd never seen a baby before. John suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

"It's my son, Mr. Locke," he said, pausing a moment to catch his breath.

"Well, yes…but what's he doing here? Doesn't he usually come along with Mrs. Bates?"

John bit his tongue to keep in any scathing comment about how Jack's earlier than scheduled arrival could be such a problem. Would he cause the forces in the universe to shift? Would he bring the place down on their heads?

"Mrs. Bates isn't very well today," he said. "I said that I'd take Jack so that she could have some respite and focus on getting herself better."

"Oh," said Mr. Locke. His tone of voice indicated that he thought it was a weakness that a woman should fall ill when she had a child to take care of—presumably that was why he had never married at the age of forty-five.

"Anything to report?" he said, firmly steering the conversation in another direction before he lost his patience with someone making suggestions about his precious Anna.

Mr. Locke shook his head. "No, everything went smoothly last night. No dramas to report."

The last one had been a couple who had tried to sneak out without paying the bill. Before that, they'd had one man who had tried to creep down into the kitchen to steal some of their produce. John couldn't understand what on earth drove some people to be so dishonest, trying to undermine the means he had to provide for his family. If they had plenty of money to spare, he wouldn't mind it quite as much. As it was, when they were already in such a precarious situation, they could hardly afford to be robbed. They had only had their business for a few months, and while it was going better than he'd thought it might, they were hardly stalwarts with plenty of recurring customers. Hiring a night manager had been a stroke of genius on his wife's behalf, even if Mr. Locke grated on his nerves at times.

"I'm glad to hear it," he said. "Thank you for another good night. I'll see you later?"

"You will," Mr. Locke confirmed, pushing himself to his feet. "Have a good day, Mr. Bates." He glanced doubtfully down at the pram.

"I'm sure I will," said John, straightening to his full height.

He waited until the other man was out of the door before sighing, rubbing at his temples. It would be all right. It _would_. Jack had settled down now, and he had enough experience to care for him. He could change soiled nappies almost as efficiently as Anna could, and while Anna did most of the feeding at her breast, he had made a couple of bottles before. He could do this.

"You'll be a good lad for your old dad, won't you, son?" he murmured, looking down into that round, angelic face. "You'll take pity on me because you know I'm not quite as competent as your wonderful mummy is. And we can have a grand old time, just the two of us. You'll be running this place in no time at all."

He stroked his index finger just barely down his little cheek, and then paused to think. Anna's usual morning routine meant going down to the kitchen to check in on Mrs. Aldred and see how she was getting along with the breakfast preparations while he popped along to the office to make sure everything was in order. They met back up in the dining room to greet the guests and to ensure that they had everything they needed. Anna usually helped with the serving while he made a swift exit, always the more awkward of the two in social situations, but he was certainly not afraid of pitching in with the more manual tasks when he was needed. And without Anna's presence, it would certainly be needed this morning. No guest of theirs would leave thinking that they hadn't been properly attended to. He'd have to leave Jack sleeping in the corner of the room and hope that nothing disturbed him, but their son was quite the main attraction at the hotel, so he would hardly be a disruption.

But first: to see Mrs. Aldred.

When they had been scouting the place out, the estate agent had informed them that the property had been built a long time ago by a wealthy middle class businessman, who had had it built over three floors to emulate the style of a great house. Rather than building it up into an inn for the upper classes, however, he had lost most of his money to gambling, and the place had been sold off to the highest bidder. Which, as it turned out, hadn't been that high at all. It had been passed down three generations in the new family, but they had had no children to leave it to, and in their old age wanted to be able to enjoy their retirement. And so it had passed into their care, and hopefully into the Bates family for many generations to come. Anna in particular had been enamoured with the layout, a reminder of Downton in miniature form, and John had been caught up in her enthusiasm. He knew they'd made the right choice. Scarborough was a beautiful area, and not too far away from Downton, so they could still keep in touch with their old friends. Jack would still be able to grow up knowing the places that his parents had loved the most, while still making their own happy memories away from it. It was perfect.

Manoeuvring the pram into the office, John set about lifting his son up. He would not leave him here on his own. He'd enjoy a trip to the kitchen. He didn't intend on staying long, so hopefully the noise wouldn't disturb him.

"Right, here we go," he murmured into Jack's ear as he lifted him high into the crook of his neck, his hand spanning his tiny back and keeping him close. Jack snuffled. His breath was warm against his neck. Perfection. Together, they made their way down the short flight of stairs to the basement area. The echoing clangs informed him that Mrs. Aldred was hard at work.

He found her standing over the oven. She'd only been at work for an hour, but already her hair was frazzled and her cheeks were bright red. He cleared his throat.

"Good morning, Mrs. Aldred," he said. "I just thought I'd pop my head in to see how you were doing."

Much to his dismay, rather than turn around with a smile, the complete opposite happened.

Something much _worse_ happened.

Mrs. Aldred shrieked, and a flailing elbow caught the pan of freshly fried bacon, knocking it all over the floor.

"Christ!" John yelped, taking a hasty step backwards while the cooked screamed and flapped about again.

"What are you doing down here!?" she scolded, whirling round to face him.

How had that been his fault? "I was just coming down to see how you are," he said defensively. "Mrs. Bates does that every morning."

"Mrs. Bates also doesn't sneak up on me like some kind of thief," the cook responded furiously.

"Here, let me help you clean up," said John.

"You'll do no such thing! Men shouldn't be allowed in the kitchen. They only ever get underfoot. And you've got the bairn in your arms. Where are you going to put him while you clean, hmm?"

"I can put him down," John said tentatively.

"And where will you do that? The table? Oh, yes, very clever idea, Mr. Bates! No, stand there and don't move. You've caused enough trouble as it is."

That was hardly fair, John thought. He hadn't deliberately gone out to make a mess for her to clean up. How had she not heard him approaching? His cane was hardly soundless against the flagstones.

"How much of breakfast has gone?" he asked, eyeing the mess. That was all he needed to start the day, no breakfast to serve the guests.

"Most of it!" she shrieked. And she started again, on her tirade against men in the kitchen. John bit his tongue to stop himself from pointing out that there were many great male chefs. Their own Alfred had gone off to the Ritz. That wasn't something to be scoffed at.

It probably wasn't a good idea to mention it when Mrs. Aldred had so many sharp implements to hand. And, he though mournfully, she was right about one thing: this probably _wouldn't_ have happened if Anna was here, for his wife was the very picture of grace and poise.

"We'll just have to send up whatever we can," he decided. "Fruit and the like. It's not what we usually do, but we've no choice in the matter. I have faith that you can conjure something up."

Mrs. Aldred glared at him, continuing to mutter something about the incompetence of men under her breath. He thought it was best to leave her while he still had his body intact.

"I'll just take Jack back upstairs," he said. "I can send Josie down."

"You'll do no such thing! I'm quite capable of running my own domain, thank you very much!"

"I didn't mean to imply that you weren't," John said wearily. It was times like this that made him wonder why they had hired her in the first place. She was a wonderful cook, but she was even more cantankerous than Mrs. Patmore. "But it would take half the time with two."

"Josie isn't a cook. She doesn't know the first thing about the kitchen. She's no use to me here. Leave her be."

"Very well. Do you think you can rustle something up?"

"What do you take me for? Of course I can. Just delay it ten minutes. Offer them a cup of tea, or keep them talking. I'll ring when I'm ready for Josie to fetch."

"All right. I _am_ sorry for startling you."

"That's all right." She paused, as if she something was just dawning on her for the first time. "Wait, where _is_ Mrs. Bates?"

"That's what I tried to tell you. She's sick. That's why I've got young Jack here with me. I thought she might feel better if she had some peace for a while."

"Well, I hope she isn't ill for long. This place couldn't run without her."

At least they could agree on that. "She's always been resilient. I'm sure she'll be back on her feet in no time." God, he hoped so. This place was already falling apart without her at the helm. "I'll leave you to get on."

Mrs. Aldred grunted, and with that he turned on his heel, hitching Jack further up against his shoulder. His son snuffled and drooled, not even moving a muscle. Typical. He had kept them up all night, but was sleeping through the Second World War.

Well, John thought fondly, he _was _his mother's son.

* * *

Thankfully, despite the hysteria surrounding it, breakfast was a success. The cold breakfast, whilst different to what they were usually used to, seemed to go down a storm. Josie handed everything with her steadfast reliability, and John would wager that Jack had something to do with the smiles on everyone's faces, too. His son had the kind of face that could melt away any kind of bad mood. He got _that_ from Anna, too.

It boosted his confidence. Surely the worst had passed now? The rest of the day could continue smoothly, and he would return to Anan triumphant with his day of work, and relay it all like a boy needing the praise from his mother.

Unfortunately, his hope was short-lived.

* * *

When all of the guests had gone about their own business, John deemed that it was the right time to slip away. He took Jack into the office and closed the door behind him, heaving a sigh. Blessed silence.

"Come on, son," he said, gently lowering him into the bassinet they kept in the corner of the office. "Let's leave you here while Daddy takes a look at the mail we've got. Hopefully there will be a few more bookings in this lot. We could do with it to get us through the summer."

Jack did not respond. John shook his head at his silly chatter and pulled the pile towards him. There were indeed several requests for reservations, as well as more bills. He set those aside to look over with Anna, dragged the diary towards him to check their availability, and set about composing replies.

He was halfway through that when Josie interrupted him. She popped her head around the door shyly.

"Is now a bad time, Mr. Bates?" she asked. John liked her. She was a good girl. Hardworking, quiet, friendly with Anna and good with their son. He put his pen down.

"Not at all," he said with an encouraging smile. "What is it, Josie?"

"Well, the Lewises have just told me that they thought they heard something squeaking in their room.

"_What!?"_ John exclaimed, standing at once. "That can't be right! Not with the way you clean, and Anna is dogged about these things. It's impossible."

Josie shrugged helplessly. "I'm just passing on what I heard, Mr. Bates."

He caught himself. "Of course. I'm sorry. It's not your fault. Where are they now?"

"They've gone out," the young woman supplied. "They said that they would give you some space to sort it out and they don't want to hear it when they come back."

John huffed. "Of course. Well, we'll go up there and take a look."

Josie nodded solemnly. He admired that about her. She would tackle any problem head on, much like his own dear Anna. "What shall we do about Jack?"

"He'll have to come with us. We can put him on the bed."

"And if we find anything?"

"We won't," John said stubbornly. "Come on, let's go."

Josie nodded, and disappeared. John scrubbed his hand down his face, moving over to the crib. Jack's lips twitched in his sleep.

"I'm sorry for having to move you again," John whispered as he bent down to retrieve his little body into his arms. Perhaps it would have been better if he'd left Jack at home with Anna. They could both have been having some much needed rest.

But it was pointless to think like that. Anna would scold him if she knew the direction that his thoughts had taken. She was his biggest supporter, the person who had made him believe that he could be a good father despite everything in his life that had previously told him that he would be terrible at it. Jack would be all right.

Hitching him further up against his shoulder, John limped out of the room and followed Josie up to the Lewises' room. Together, they moved in and closed the door. Instant silence. That was good. This way, they would hopefully hear those phantom squeaks.

Or not. Because those squeaks didn't exist.

Josie stayed by the door as John roamed further into the room, settling himself on the edge of the bed while he deposited Jack in the middle. He'd be safe there. The only sound that could be heard was their breathing, and Jack's little sleep snuffles. There was no scuttling feet, no squeaking, nothing to suggest that there was another presence sharing the room with them.

"I don't hear anything," said Josie in a stage whisper. "How long should we wait?"

"We'll give it twenty minutes or so," he decided.

"But what if they still insist they can hear something when they get back?"

"Well, we'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it. They're not with us for much longer. Hopefully we can avoid any disasters."

Josie nodded, moving over to the chair in the corner of the room. She settled herself onto it, and together they waited.

John closed his eyes as he concentrated on the silence. What bliss it was. No sound at all. No crying Jack. It was something he could quite get used to—

"Mr. Bates?"

He jerked his head up to find Josie staring at him curiously. He cleared his throat and tried to put on his best managerial voice. "Yes?"

"Were you sleeping just now?" the girl said.

"Of course not!" he said, puffing out his chest. "Closing my eyes helps me concentrate better."

"All right," said Josie, though she sounded less than convinced. He had just opened his mouth to bluster further when he paused. No, it couldn't have been.

Could it?

"Mr. Bates?"

"Keep quiet," he said lowly. "I thought I heard something."

"Heard something!?" Josie squeaked, sounding a lot less sure of herself now that she was faced with the reality of it. She sat ramrod straight on the chair, bringing her legs up off the floor as if she feared the mouse would use them as a climbing pole. Ignoring her, John strained his ears, trying to pick up on the faint noise he had heard before.

There.

Good God, there really _was _something in this room. That was unacceptable.

"I hear it too," Josie breathed. "Where do you think it's coming from?"

"I don't know," he said. "We're going to have to search for it. It can't escape, at least." At her look of horror, he amended, "_I'll_ look for it. You just watch Jack while you keep your eye out for it creeping anywhere. All right?"

She looked much calmer at that. With a groan, John pushed himself to his feet. He scanned the perimeters of the room, but there was nothing lurking in the corners. That meant it had to be somewhere else. Probably hiding under the bed, or perhaps under the cabinet. He'd have to get on the floor and have a look. It was not a prospect he relished. With a groan, he lowered himself to the floor, trying to keep his weight off his knee, tilting his head so he could see under the bed. It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness.

He swore when they did, scrambling back ungracefully. His knee twinged.

"Mr. Bates?" said Josie urgently, her voice high-pitched. "Mr. Bates, what is it? There's something under there, isn't there?"

Yes, there was. Something with huge glowing eyes. Something out of a nightmare. It was bigger than a mouse. It had to be a rat.

The biggest rat he had ever seen.

It squeaked again.

John swore again, trying to calm his heart. He couldn't let on to Josie that it had unsettled him.

"Right," he said, "I'm going to make a grab for it."

"But what if it gets away!?"

"It's still got nowhere to go." With the size of it, he doubted it would fit into any hole in the wall. The idea of killing it with his bare hands made him feel queasy, but there was little else he could do. He just hoped that it didn't have a nest somewhere…

Taking a deep breath, he lowered his head back to the floor. Those same eerie eyes glowered at him. Now or never.

He reached under the bed, making a mad grab in the direction of those eyes. It _screeched_.

And leapt for him.

John didn't even have a chance to move before his face was full of something furry and wriggly. He muffled a yelp. Christ, that thing had _claws_, claws that were digging into his skin. He reached up in a blind panic to try and tear the thing off.

"I've got it, Mr. Bates, I've got it! Hold on!"

It happened in a blur. One moment he couldn't see because of that mass of thick fur, the next…

The next all he had time to register was a heavy tome flying towards his face.

It slammed against his nose with a giant thump. His nose cracked and _exploded_. Swearing, he rolled over, moving his hand up instinctively. It came away covered in blood. Josie squeaked again.

"Mr. Bates! Mr. Bates, are you all right?"

"Fine," he managed to gasp, trying not to swallow the blood that trickled down over his lips. Jesus _Christ_, that _hurt_.

"I swear I tried to get the rat!" the girl said miserably. "But it jumped away."

"It wasn't a rat," he said grimly. His mouth felt oddly numb, and he wiped the blood away with his fingers again. "It was a cat."

Josie blinked. "A _cat_!?"

John gestured in the direction of the corner, where the little ball of fur now was. The little pointed ears and the tail was unmistakable. A kitten more than a cat, really, no more than a few months old, little and scrawny. It clearly had no place to go.

Josie dropped the book she had been wielding back onto the bed. "Oh."

John struggled back into a sitting position, his head aching. Christ, that hurt like the devil. It was probably going to leave a mark. If Lord Grantham had seen it, he would want to recruit Josie for the house cricket team.

The little grey kitten was still backed up in the corner, its little teeth bared, a low growling sound issuing from its mouth. Undeterred, he struggled back to his feet and limped over to it, bending down and grabbing it by the scruff of its neck. It yowled, and tiny front paws with razors for claws flailed out, looking for something to grab hold of and rip to shreds. It might have been small, but it was a feisty thing.

Josie stepped closer, cautious. "Where do you think it came from, Mr. Bates?"

"Hard to say. It must have crept in through the back door and snuck up here without anyone noticing. There's nothing as wily as a cat. It's a relief. A cat isn't nearly as bad as a rat."

"What are you going to do with it?" she asked.

It wasn't something he'd given any thought to. He could put it back out on the streets, but there was no guarantee that it wouldn't find its way back inside. Drowning kittens, while common practice, was far beyond his tastes. He'd taken enough innocent lives in his time without resorting to it in helpless animals.

Still, what else was there to do?

The idea niggled at the back of his mind, not quite fully formed. If Anna was here, he was quite sure he knew what she would say…

But no. It was impossible. They could not have a stray cat around the place. Times were hard enough as it was without adding another scrawny mouth to the family.

And yet…

And yet he knew that that wouldn't deter his wife. All of God's creatures faced their hardships, she would say, and this little thing was facing them now. She would fix him with that look, that look he couldn't resist, and she would say…

"I'll take it home," he murmured. "Give it somewhere warm and dry to stay."

Josie beamed at him. "That's a great idea, Mr. Bates!" She hesitated. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

John checked. "Definitely a boy." Which at least made it easier. He wasn't going to come home round with kittens.

"What are you going to name it?"

"I think Mrs. Bates will decide that." She'd had her own way with Jack, after all. No doubt he would have to go along with whatever she chose for this four legged new addition. "Find me a box to put him in. Make sure you put a few air holes in it."

Josie eyed him doubtfully. "Will you be all right if I leave you alone?"

He forced his lips to stretch into a painful smile. "I'll be fine. I'll just go and clean up in the bathroom."

"And Jack?"

John checked his son. Still sleeping. Bloody typical. "I'll only be in the bathroom."

"All right, then." Josie cast him one last uncertain look before disappearing. He waited until the door had closed behind him before dropping the kitten back to the floor. It—he—scurried back to his hiding place under the bed. Well, that was all right. He'd just have to ferret him out again.

For now, he had to get a good look at his face. It stung like the devil.

Pushing open the door, he took a deep breath and faced the mirror. And groaned aloud.

Good God, between them, Josie and the kitten had certainly done a number on him. Blood still trickled from his nose, and his cheekbone was starting to darken, where the corner of the book had struck him. Thin red lines scoured down his cheeks from the kitten's tiny claws. It was almost as if he had gone back in time to his stupid youth, where drunken fights had been as natural as breathing.

Tentatively, he dabbed at his nose with his handkerchief, running it under the tap and watching the water swirl red. He managed to staunch the flow, though there was nothing he could do about his nose's redness, nor to mask the dark bruise or those cuts.

Josie returned shortly, and together they managed to get the kitten into the box. It yowled and wailed from within, but John ignored it.

"Go down to the kitchen," he said, "and see if there's anything Mrs. Aldred can spare to feed it. It's not looking too bad, but it can't have eaten for at least a day or two. It'll be all right in the office until I have time to pop across home to see Anna."

He checked his pocket watch; hopefully he'd have time for that soon. If all was going well, the doctor would be going round to see her. With any luck, he'd be able to give her something to help. And once John could get over there, he would make sure that she told him everything the doctor had told her, and that he carried out her every whim.

Unfortunately for him, that moment was to be a little further away than he had initially anticipated.

* * *

Back down in his office, John sighed. The kitten was stored safely under the desk, probably making its way through the mounds of chicken that Mrs. Aldred had reluctantly spared for this latest acquisition. Jack was back in his bassinet, still snuffing and twitching, at peace with his little world. Finally, he could get down to some of the work he had been intending to start right at the beginning of the day.

He was just reviewing the inventories when there was yet another knock on the door.

"Yes?" he called, just barely masking the irritable edge to his tone. It opened, to reveal Mr. Sanders, the headmaster of the local school and a highly influential member of the community. John stood at once.

"Mr. Sanders!" he said. "What a surprise. I wasn't expecting you." They knew the man, but not very well.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Not at all. Please, come in."

Mr. Sanders did so, then stopped short. With a tired resignation, John realised that he was staring at his face.

"Mr. Bates," he said tentatively. "What happened…?" He gestured upwards.

"It's a very long story," he said. "One that involves me being very careless. I know, I know, it looks like I've been in a young man's brawl. I can assure you, I have not."

The other man nodded uncertainly, but it made John suppress a groan. God, this meant that every person who came across him in the next couple of weeks would look at him with the same distrust. He hoped that it wouldn't have an effect on the business. Don't stop at the Bateses', he imagined people saying in his head. That Mr. Bates is a rough old thing. Heard he was in the army back in the day.

"How can I help?" he asked wearily, to deflect Mr. Sanders from staring any longer.

He shook himself into action. "Right, yes. I've come to ask a favour of you."

Please, take a seat."

The other man did so. "Thank you. I apologise for dropping in unexpected."

"Not at all," said John. "Would you care for some refreshments?"

"Tea would be appreciated," said Mr. Sanders. "Thank you."

"What brings you here?" said John as he stood to make tea at the little table in the corner of the room. That had been Anna's idea; she claimed that she was unable to work if she didn't have a strong, sweet cup of tea near at hand at all times.

"Well, as you know, the yearly Yorkshire Roots event is coming up," he replied, watching John move to hook the kettle over the fire. "The organisers met in Barnsley to go over the final details. We've been trying to go round and gather together some prizes for the charity event, and we were hoping that you might be able to donate something. We were hoping to have some enticing prize for the most money donated. We thought that there might be something you could offer as an incentive."

John continued to frown, mulling over their options. "The only thing I can think of that might fit the bill is a stay in the hotel. Would that be a big enough incentive?"

The headmaster clapped his hands in glee. "That would fit perfectly. The celebration is open to all the county, so it will give plenty of people outside Scarborough the opportunity to stay here themselves and see what a wonderful place it is to visit. You and Mrs. Bates have the makings of a very fine business on your hands, and I'm sure it would do you both the world of good to have the name advertised everywhere in this corner of God's green earth."

That was a good point. As it stood, he and Anna were still establishing their little business, operating in a small area by word of mouth. Many of the others back at Downton had promised to spread the word of their new venture, but the opportunity to have their business delivered on an even greater scale was simply too tempting to pass up. Advertising all over the county was more than they could ever have hoped to achieve on their own.

"Mrs. Bates and I would be more than happy to donate that," he said. "And there's no one better at hosting than my wife."

Mr. Sanders gave a fond smile, no doubt thinking of the many biscuits and cups of tea Anna plied him with whenever he dropped in. "You're right there. And your son never fails to make people smile. Where is the little tyke now? With Mrs. Bates, I presume?"

"Oh, no, Mrs. Bates is feeling under the weather today," he said. "He's over in the basket."

Mr. Sanders stood. "Is he, indeed?" He moved across the room to said basket, peering inside. "Ah, there he is. Like father like son, eh, Bates? Strapping little thing, isn't he?"

"He is," said John, unable to mask his sense of pride. He was pleased that Jack looked more like Anna, but he couldn't deny that he felt a real sense of achievement when people said that he took after him, too. That was probably silly masculine conceit, but he simply couldn't help it. He limped over to Mr. Sanders' side, unable to resist the chance to look upon his son once more.

Unfortunately, at that precise moment, Jack's little eyes blinked open. He latched onto John at once, and then his gaze slid across to Mr. Sanders. He stared up at them for a moment, wide-eyed. His gaze darted back to John, as if he recognised his daddy, but there was a definite chin wobble as his gaze moved back to Mr. Sanders. John frowned, suppressing an amused quirk of the lips. It was almost as if Jack was trying to work out why Mummy had changed so dramatically since the last time he had seen her standing next to Daddy over the crib.

The image wasn't funny for long.

Because Jack opened his mouth and began to scream.

Mr. Sanders shrank back at once, clamping his hands over his ears.

"That's a healthy pair of lungs!" he half-shouted.

John reached into the crib, picking him up at once, cradling him against his shoulder.

"Son, it's all right," he tried to murmur into his ear, but Jack gave no indication of understanding. He only screamed louder.

"I'll, um, leave you to it," said Mr. Sanders, backing away rapidly. He seemed to be the kind of man who liked babies as long as they were quiet. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Bates."

John could only nod distractedly, the wails beginning to make his ears ring.

"Look, son, it's all right now," he said frantically. "He's gone. He's gone. He's not going to hurt you. Daddy's here."

Jack's sobbing indicated that he didn't believe him.

* * *

It carried on. And on. And on. Déjà vu all over again.

John tried everything he could to get his son to settle. Rocking him in his arms, trying to feed him from the bottle he had brought with him, even going as far as trying to sing him a lullaby, pushing his humiliation to one side. Nothing seemed to work. Jack grew progressively redder in the face, his little lungs screaming, hiccoughing and gasping as his features scrunched. Nothing seemed to placate him. Mrs. Aldred tried to take over with no-nonsense firmness, and Josie tried cooing at him, but it was all in vain. Jack just carried on. He was aware, too, that he hadn't yet managed to get back home to check in on Anna, something that greatly unsettled him. And, with his son squealing the way that he was, now seemed as good a time as any.

Feeling the first stirrings of a headache behind his eyes, John said wearily, "Will you please watch him, just for a few more minutes? I need to take the cat across the road and to check in on how my wife is doing."

"Yes, of course," said Josie, but it wasn't without a dubious look at Jack's scarlet face.

With that, John picked up the box—the kitten had started its own bloody yowling—and carried it out into the blessed quiet of the outside world. He paused for a moment, enjoying the cool air on his face, before starting his trudge down the little field to his home. Now that it was away from that awful noise, the kitten seemed to have settled once more.

He unlocked the front door when he arrived and set the box down on the table in the hallway. He listened for a moment, but he could hear no movement. Perhaps that meant that Anna was still abed.

Not wanting to risk waking her if she was asleep, he crept upstairs. The bedroom door was ajar. He tried to peer through the crack. She wasn't in bed.

More confident now, he pushed open the door to find her sitting at her vanity, absent-mindedly running her brush through her long, silky hair.

"Hello," he said.

Rather than greet him with enthusiasm, she almost jumped a foot in the air, turning around and holding the brush up like a weapon.

"Good lord, John Bates," she scolded, her other hand over her heart, "what on earth!? Why didn't you shout and let me know you were back!? You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"I didn't want to wake you if you were asleep," he protested.

"So you thought killing me was a better option!?"

"Sorry," he said, suitably chastened.

Her eyes widened then, as if she was finally taking note of his appearance. She stood quickly, her chair clattering to the floor. "John! What's happened!?"

She looked frightened, and he hastened to smooth her fears over. "It's nothing, I promise. I had a bit of an accident at the hotel. No one hit me. At least not intentionally."

"Not intentionally!? So someone _did_ hit you!?"

"I'll explain everything in a moment. It's not pressing. I'm here for a more important reason."

She was still eyeing him as if she thought he might collapse at any moment. "What's that, then?"

"I came to check up on you, of course." He moved further into the room, wondering if she would permit him near enough to hold her. "Has the doctor been yet?"

"Oh," she said, a funny, faraway look misting her eyes. "Yes, he has."

"And?"

"And nothing to report. I'll give you all the details later, but there's absolutely nothing to worry about."

John sighed, relaxing at last; he hadn't realised just how tense he'd been until that moment. "That's fantastic news, my darling."

"I was thinking I might come along to the hotel now and give you a hand."

"What? No, absolutely not."

"But I'm as fit as a fiddle. I have it on good authority."

"I still think you'd benefit from a day of resting."

"I couldn't sleep again now, not after today."

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked in confusion, but she simply shook her head.

"Never mind," she said. "Where's Jack?"

"I left him with Josie," he said, resolute that he wouldn't mention that their son was currently screaming his little lungs fit to burst. "There's something else I have to show you."

Anna raised an eyebrow. "Now I'm intrigued. What is it?"

"Wait here," he said. "I'll fetch it."

He returned downstairs, hefted the box under his arm, and took it upstairs. Anna's expression morphed into one of confusion.

"A box?" she said.

"It's what's inside the box." Carefully, John placed it on the bed and popped off the lid. Anna gasped as she peered at the wriggling ball of fluff.

"Oh, John, where did you get it?" she said as she moved in to stroke it.

"In the hotel, funnily enough," he said. "The Lewises were complaining that they could hear something squeaking. They thought it was a mouse. When Josie and I went up to investigate, we found this little tyke under the bed. Which is, incidentally, why my face looks the way it does. The cat scratched me, and Josie smacked me with a book."

Anna's lips twitched as if she very much wanted to laugh. "How did it get in?"

"I don't know, but it's obviously a stray. I wasn't really sure what to do with it, so I thought I'd bring it here."

"You did the right thing," said Anna at once, stroking a finger down one tiny ear. "Do we know the sex?"

"A boy," he supplied.

"I'm going to think of a name for him," she decided, then cast him a concerned look. "Do you think we can afford to keep him?"

He frowned. "I don't see why not."

"It's just—" she started, then caught herself, shaking her head. "Never mind."

John eyed her curiously, but decided not to press. Not yet, at least. He stood back. "Can I leave him in your care while I get back to our son?"

"You can," she said. "I'll get him something to eat and set him up a bed in the kitchen. I'm sure we've got some old blankets somewhere that can be of use."

"Don't overexert yourself," he advised. "I'm sure the doctor counselled you to rest, whatever you might not be saying."

She rolled her eyes, but didn't argue. He bent in and kissed her before she could grumble.

"I'd better head back," he said. "I'll see you for dinner. If you need anything at all, call me. I'll be right there."

"I'll be fine," she said. "I'll see you later. Have a good afternoon."

"I will," he said; at least, he hoped he would.

His hope wouldn't quite hold out.

* * *

He could hear Jack's ear-splitting shrieks from the lobby.

Hurrying back towards the office, he flung open the door to find Josie in almost the same state as his son.

"He won't stop, Mr. Bates!" she wailed. "How do you _cope_!?"

With grim determination, he thought, but reached for his little boy. "You get back to your duties, Josie. I'll take over from here."

The young woman had never looked so relieved to be told to get back to work. She handed the squalling baby over and raced out of the room as if she feared he might change his mind.

John limped over to his desk and settled himself down. He pulled Jack away from his shoulder and held him in the cradle of his arms, peering down into his face. Were his teeth bothering him again? He could try some of the remedies they had been recommended by the doctor again, even if they hadn't worked the first time around.

"Please, darling," he murmured to the disgruntled bundle in his arms, "please, tell Daddy what's wrong. Tell Daddy what he can do to fix it."

But it seemed that there was nothing that could be done. Jack's screams reached a level that John thought that only dogs would be able to listen to comfortably.

There was one second of golden peace.

And then Jack vomited over his father's freshly pressed suit.

For a moment, all John could do was blink, astounded. And then he swore loudly, stumbling over to the crib and planting Jack down on his bottom. He swore again, looking around frantically for something that he could use to mop the disgusting deposit from his front. Of course, just when he needed it, there was nothing available.

And, lord, did it _stink_. It wasn't the first time that Jack had been sick down him, and he doubted that it would be the last, either, but it was frustrating that it had happened on his best suit, on a day that had already been going to so poorly for him. The last thing he needed was for his guests to see him in such a state. It was no good. He was going to have to go home to get changed.

Pacing to the door, he pulled it open and called for Josie. She popped her head cautiously out from where she was setting up the dining room for the evening meal, and her eyes widened when she saw him.

"What happened!?" she asked, bounding over.

He scrubbed a hand down his face. "Jack happened. I think he cried so much he made himself sick."

It was a reluctant offer, but it was made nevertheless. "Is there anything you'd like me to do?"

He sighed. He hated to concede defeat, but he could see no other way. "Would you mind if you took him home for me? I'll have to follow shortly to change before anyone else sees me, but I'm wondering if being back in his mother's arms might do the trick. Anna has always had the touch when it comes to him. He's his father's son when it comes to bending to her will."

Josie smiled slightly. "Give him here, then. And don't worry, I'll be able to hold the fort while you're gone. I'll let you know when I'm back so you can follow."

John nodded gratefully. He whiled away the time by locking his papers away in his desk and making sure everything was left in an orderly fashion. If there was one thing he hated, it was mess.

It took Josie a little while longer than he'd expected, but eventually she reappeared, flushed, eyes sparkling. John frowned at her.

"What is it?" he asked, but she shook her head.

"Nothing," she said breathlessly, belied by her grin. "Go home, Mr. Bates, and stay home. I'm sure Mrs. Aldred and I can handle everything between us, and it'll be time for Mr. Locke to return soon enough."

John stared. "Why would I do that? I'm not ill. It's just a change of clothes that I need. It's hardly fair to leave you with all of the work. You do far more than you need to as it is."

She waved it away. "I _like_ working here. It's nice. And I just think that you deserve a few hours with Mrs. Bates."

"Well, it's not as if I won't see Mrs. Bates later…" It wasn't that he didn't want to spend the time with Anna. Christ, there was nothing he enjoyed more. But nor did he want to feel like he was shirking his responsibilities to his hotel and to the people who worked with him. It was hardly fair if he went swanning off home when the others had to remain.

But Josie was surprisingly stern. "Go, Mr. Bates. It won't hurt just this once. I know Mrs. Aldred will agree with me."

"Fine," he said, more irritated than he'd intended. "But if you need me for anything, don't hesitate to call."

"I won't," she said. "Now, go."

And so he did, tracing the well-worn path back to the cottage.

* * *

Wearily, John trudged through the door, stinking of sick, his face still throbbing from Josie's unintended assault, his head pounding with the most ferocious headache he had ever felt. Now that it had been sanctioned, there was nothing he wanted more than to bathe, crawl into bed, and forget this nightmare day had ever happened. Kicking off his shoes, he leaned his cane against the wall, closed the door behind him, and took a step forward into the hall…

…And immediately let out a yelp, almost stumbling over as he quickly recoiled from the source of the sharp pain. He swore with colourful language he hadn't used since his army days, leaning back against the wall as he gingerly leaned down a little to rub at his stockinged foot. Bloody _hell_, how had Jack's blocks got out? He was hardly at an age when he could make too much of a mess himself, so that must mean that Anna had left it there. But why would she? She abhorred mess, the housemaid in her needing to straighten out every last crease and sweep away every single speck of dust. So why would she willingly leave a mess out in the hall? To what purpose, when he had hardly been in the mood for playing when Josie had taken him home? Perhaps that was how Anna had calmed him (for he could hear no screaming now)? Frowning, John picked up the offending block. It was emblazoned with the letter _P_. They'd thought that buying blocks with the letters on would help Jack, in time, with his alphabet and his spelling. They'd agreed that it would be a good idea for him to know as much as possible before it was time to go to school. Jack already seemed to enjoy the soothing lull of a read book; John hoped that he would enjoy reading for the pleasure of it in the same way that he and Anna did. Anna was certain that no Bates child could be anything less than a voracious consumer of the written word.

Not even the thought of that could improve John's mood. He stomped into the sitting room, almost standing on another brick that lurked in the threshold. _Christ_. What was going on? That boldly painted _R _seemed to taunt him. The _E _was by the small jumble, and he tossed them all together. So, Anna was definitely not in the vicinity. God knew what she'd needed the bricks for, then. At least she'd managed to settle their son. The silence was like a miracle to soothe his pounding head.

"John? Is that you?"

Anna's voice was muffled. He limped back to the doorway. Should he shout, and dare risk disturbing Jack and the fragile peace?

"John?"

Anna didn't seem in the mood to come to the top of the stairs to greet him. Scrubbing his hand down his face, he called as loud as he dared, "Yes, darling, it's me."

"You're early."

"Didn't Josie tell you that your son threw up all over me? I'm going to have to do something about that before the stain sets in. And then I want a good, long soak in the tub."

"Before you do that, can you come up here a minute?"

"Can it not wait ten minutes while I sort myself out?"

"No, it can't."

John huffed, taking a breath to compose himself. None of the misfortunes of today were Anna's fault. He should be flying up those stairs to take care of her every need after how poorly she'd seemed that morning, even if she had seemed so much brighter when he'd brought Jack back across. It was just…well, was ten minutes to himself too much to ask for? It wasn't even if he was using them for selfish purposes. He just wanted to get rid of this bloody sick.

But he knew to deny Anna would be madness, so he dragged himself back along the hall to the stairs. Like a man headed for the gallows, he heaved himself upstairs, coming to a pause when he realised that there was yet another bloody cube halfway up. What on earth was this all about? He swiped it up, barely giving it a second glance: _G_.

There was another at the top of the stairs. John paused again, frowning. All right, this had to be some kind of mad game. It was the only thing he could think of. Like a trail. He felt very much like Hansel and Gretel, following the breadcrumbs to the witch's door. For the first time since this morning, he felt the needle of anxiety prick. Was there something wrong? What voiceless scheme was at work here? Was Anna trying to tell him something?

_N_.

He crept forward, the anxiety growing and roaring. All thoughts of the sick stain and the awful day he'd had were forgotten in the face of Anna's strange behaviour. The stray _A _cube was nestled by the bathroom door.

Another _N_ lay before their closed bedroom door. Swallowing, John bent to retrieve it, and took a deep breath, half-afraid of what he would find on the other side of the wood.

He pushed it open.

Anna stood in the middle of the room, still clad in her nightgown, her hair in a messy braid, looking so small in just her bare feet.

In her hands was one final block: _T_.

Standing there, the cogs in John's head slowly began to turn, putting the pieces together.

_P-R-E-G-N-A-N-T-_

Jesus Christ. Jesus _Christ_.

He took a step forward on legs that were decidedly wobbly. For a wild moment, he wondered if his right leg would hold him, he was shaking so badly, like he had come down with the fever that he and Anna had been so sure had struck her just this morning. He tried to get his mouth to form words.

"Are you—is this—when did it—" he said, stumbling over the words, then shook his head, giving a thick, rasping laugh. "Say it, Anna. For the love of God, say it."

The smile that crawled across her face was slow and wholly joyful. There was no other description for it: she simply lit up with unfettered wonder. She was _beautiful_.

Her voice wavered as she spoke. "It's true, John. I'm pregnant."

_Pregnant_.

Somehow, hearing that word spoken aloud made them seem even more surreal. Another baby. God, he had hoped that they could be so lucky again, but he hadn't pinned all of his dreams on it. He would have been more than content with just their darling Jack, but they had always longed for a bigger family…

It seemed almost too good to be true.

"When—how—?" he stuttered, laughing.

"John Bates, if you don't know how by now then I must be doing something seriously wrong," she laughed in reply, the wide beam on her face almost threatening to split it in two. There were unshed tears glistening in her eyes. She switched the block into her left hand, her right moving down to cradle the tiny, tiny swell of her stomach. "And the when…well, the doctor says I'm a couple of months gone. I…I told him about the trouble we'd had conceiving our Jack, and he suggested that I make an appointment for the cerclage as soon as possible."

"Yes, of course."

She ducked her head, looking at him from under her lashes. "I know it's not the most ideal time."

"How do you make that one out?"

"Well, it's been a hectic seven months as it is, what with Jack and then the move here just a few months ago. Now we've got the little kitten. I've named him Earl Grey, by the way."

John stared, momentarily derailed as he stared at the tiny bundle of fur that was currently curled up on the end of their bed. _"What?"_

"Earl Grey," she repeated, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "Like the tea. And we worked for an earl for a very long time. I think it's perfect."

Her tone of voice just dared him to argue, but John blanched at the idea of having to shout _Earl Grey_ for everyone to hear.

"Isn't he a bit little for that name?" he asked desperately. "What's wrong with Smoky?"

"Every grey cat from here to London is probably called Smoky," came Anna's prim reply. "Besides, he'll grow into the name. He'll be a majestic, regal earl by adulthood."

The kitten rolled on the bed, squeaking. John couldn't quite see that happening.

Anyway," said Anna, turning their discussion swiftly away, "the point I was trying to make is this: we're still trying to find our feet, and we haven't got that much money left over. We've been trying to save every penny we can in case we need it on a rainy day, but now this completely changes everything."

"What does it change?" he demanded. "It doesn't change anything from where I stand, unless you count making life even more wonderful."

"But the money," she said hesitantly. "I'm absolutely overjoyed by this, please don't mistake me, but—"

He crossed the room towards her in two strides. Before he could wrap her up, however, she kept him at arm's length.

"Take the jacket off first," she pleaded. "I don't fancy being covered in baby sick."

The knowledge had gone clean out of his mind. Chuckling, he shrugged it off, letting it pool on the floor. She seemed satisfied that he was now sick free, and nothing could stop him from wrapping her up in a fierce hug. She melted against him, her own arms coming up to squeeze him tight.

"Please, don't worry," he begged her. "We'll make it work. We've always managed before, haven't we? We'll manage this too."

"I thought we'd have longer to prepare for this," she confessed. "Jack is only seven months old. We waited and tried for years before he came along, and now we're pregnant again in such a short space of time?"

"Perhaps it really is true when they say worrying about having a child isn't productive to having one," he mused. "We've both been a lot happier in the last year. Maybe that's all we needed. A true chance to enjoy being happy and content."

"Silly beggar," she admonished, her cheeks pinking, no doubt reflecting on some of those very happy times they had shared, the latest just the night before last. He leaned in, catching her mouth in a sweet kiss.

"Anytime we're welcoming another member to our tribe is the right time for it to happen," he said. "It'll be nice for them, being so close in age. And Jack will be a wonderful big brother. He has your sweet temperament, after all."

Anna's eyes shimmered bright blue through the veil of tears. Before he could speak again, she pulled him to her, meshing her mouth against his in a firmer and more enthusiastic display of how much his words clearly meant to her. He let his hands drift to her hips, pulling her tighter to him and holding her there while her fingers threaded through his hair. After a few moments he pulled away, determined to tease her. After all, she managed to find some way to tease him almost every day.

"This morning you didn't want me to catch what you had," he said in amusement, though certainly not enjoying her change of heart any less than enthusiastically.

"I don't think you can catch what I have, Mr. Bates," she said tartly, and he chuckled. She had him there.

"Perhaps not," he conceded. "But I can still be the proudest man around for everything that you've given me. I am so blessed to have you, and little Jack, and our new baby too. It's beyond my wildest imaginings. Thank you so much, Anna."

"I could hardly have done it alone," she said, "but you're welcome. I'm glad you're pleased."

"I couldn't be more so," he said. "How do you think Jack will take the news?"

"He's far too young to understand any of it. He'll only remember always having a sibling. I suppose it's good in that way: he'll never be jealous if he's never known any different."

"I still can't wait to tell him. A big brother already. He'll fill the role admirably."

A thought suddenly occurred to him. "Does Josie know?"

Anna dipped her head. "Yes, actually. I wanted you to be the first to know, but when she explained that she'd brought Jack and you were coming over just for a few minutes, I had to tell her in case you were delayed here a little longer than she expected. She was the one who suggested that you stay at home. She was over the moon, bless her."

"She's a good girl," John mused. "And I will go back in a little while. But she's right. I _do_ want to spend a little time with my family."

There was a cry from along the hall. Ten minutes ago, the sound might have made him wince, not because he didn't love everything about his boy with his whole heart, but because he had wanted just a snatched moment to himself. Now, he wanted nothing more than to go to him, to reunite the family properly. All four of them together.

"Let's go," he murmured. "We shouldn't keep him waiting."

"Despite what the doctor keeps telling us," Anna teased, but she offered no resistance, instead slipping her hand into his and leading him away.

Jack was sitting up in his crib when they arrived. Thankfully, he was not crying. A small mercy indeed. John bent down to him, lifting him high into his arms. Anna's hand came up to caress their son's back, and John wrapped his spare arm around her waist, pulling her close to his side, keeping them all so close to him. His perfect, perfect family.

"Right then, young man," he began, "we have some very important news for you." He glanced one more time at Anna's beaming face before sliding back to his son's, who was smiling himself for the first time in a while. "You see, Mummy and I have just found out that you're going to be a big brother…"

Jack gurgled, as if excited by the prospect, and suddenly every factor which had indicated that it would be a very bad day for John Bates was transformed.

He could hardly remember having a better one.


End file.
